


Welcome to McDonalds and Please Leave

by godtiermeme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (does McDonald's even count as a legitimate tag????), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Experimental?, M/M, McDonald's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren and Armin have just been employed at a run-down McDonald's. The location of the restaurant means that it had very little business, and most of its employees have long since left. In fact, there's only one employee aside from Eren and Armin. That employee is the seemingly out-of-place Levi, who just so happens to be the assistant manager of this particular location.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to McDonalds and Please Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I will never grasp the concept of how to actually spell Eren's last name and, seeing as I started off spelling it as "Jaeger", it's likely not about to change any time soon. This work is a one-shot and it was mostly just for me to use as a way to experiment with the characters' personalities before I got into an in-depth work with them. This is different from Homestuck, where I rather stupidly dove right into a multichapter fic. So, seeing as this is my first real work for SnK, I'd really love some comments and whatnot.

Normally, stories start out with some sort of attention-grabbing action scene or some sort of love triangle gimmick. Or, sometimes, they start out with an attempt—which, depending upon what one happens to be reading, is either a huge success or a massive failure—at being deep and though-provoking. This particular story, however, starts with none of those. In fact, it starts off in a rather boring manner.

It starts with a _car_ —not a nice car, nor a terrible car—just a car. A car that’s been passed down from a father who’s never home to see his son and is away so often as to be unaware of the fact that his wife is actually dead. As has been established, it’s nothing too fancy or too shabby. Specifically, it’s a first generation Honda Civic hatchback. Nothing about it is exceptionally notable aside from the fact that its paintjob is an ugly one—a putrid lime green with a pair of navy stripes running along its sides—but, if anything, it is this very paintjob which grants the otherwise unremarkable little vehicle its fair share of attention. (The question of if this is good or bad attention is irrelevant. However, it is easy to say that most of the looks drawn towards it are looks of “oh sweet mother of Jesus, what the fuck is that thing” and not of high praises.)

So, what?

Who cares?

It’s a fucking car. And it’s an ugly piece-of-shit one, at that. Why should that car—which anyone with another, readily available vehicle would sell in a heartbeat—be the first thing that happens to mentioned in this story?

Well, dear (or, perhaps, not-so-dear) readers, it’s not so much the car as it is the pair of teenage boys _inside_ of the car—the glowering, brown-haired, fair-skinned teen by the name of Eren Jaeger and his rather terrified, paler-than-usual faced, blond-haired companion, whose name just so happens to be Armin Arlert, seated in the car’s equally vile interior (coral pink, fake leather seats paired with a dark brown dashboard and accents).

It is this odd pair which the story happens to be focused on. The car, however, was noteworthy enough to be mentioned and it is for this reason that it was the first object to be described in excessive detail.

Furthermore, this distracting little exposition is merely irrelevant babbling, for it is more than likely true that you, as a reader, wish you had skipped this opening entirely. I assure you, however, that this poor attempt at humour is a mere ploy to grab your attention—much like the openings that were just recently called out for doing so—and that this car, which sits in an overgrown parking lot for a poorly-maintained McDonald’s, is very important.

That being said, I am fairly certain that you wish for me to get to the point. So, without further ado (aside from this pretty little line break and this additional attempt at humour)…

 

* * *

 

“5104 Winery Street  
East Shiganshina”

This address, haphazardly scrawled across a sunglow yellow Post-It note, was the destination before which two boys happened to be standing. It was the address given to a ramshackle, cookie-cutter, 1990’s style McDonald’s restaurant—one which has seen its glory days pass by with remarkable speed as towering skyscrapers and squat, ugly, little glass-walled office buildings were inconsiderately constructed all around it. Once one of many bustling little fast food places which hosted birthday parties day in and day out, this particular incarnation of the fast food mega corporation had long since devolved into a stop for businesspeople, lost tourists, and the occasional street thug “convention”. Most of its employees had, much like its customers, moved onto greasier pastures, hence the reason for the presence of two teenage boys in its overgrown parking lot.

“This place is a fucking dump,” the brown-haired teenager—Eren Jaeger—began the pair’s adventurous undertaking of a new job by murmuring the obvious, his perpetual look of displeasure becoming even more prominent as he did so.

“Well,” the brunet’s blond companion (who, by process of elimination, must be Armin Arlert) calmly replied, “It was this or the IHOP down the street. And we all know that the IHOP down the street is more a pancake joint for drug dealers than it is an actual IHOP. And didn’t Mikasa say that we’re not allowed to set foot in that IHOP?”

To this, Eren had no real response. Mikasa had, indeed, banned them from entering that particular restaurant. In fact, just prior to the pair’s departure, she had rather adamantly said, “If either of you so much as breathe in the fumes from that Godforsaken dump of a pancake house, I will find out.” Thus, he could not deny this fact. Rather, he could only affirm its truthfulness with a somewhat reluctant nod.

“Exactly my point.”

“You always have a fucking point,” the defeated teen grumbled as he tugged at the collar of his wrinkled employee’s uniform shirt and held open the door for his friend. He waited until Armin had entered and, then, he followed suit.

“Welcome to McDonalds. Please order your disgusting fake meat products and leave. If you’re eating in, please refrain from bothering me any more than you have to.” An authoritative, matter-of-fact voice came from behind the counter. It drew both Eren and Armin’s gaze towards a disinterested-looking man of a rather diminutive stature. What could only be eye liner accentuated his thin, beady eyes—which seemed to be keenly focused upon the newcomers.

For a few tense moments, neither the teens nor the man moved. Rather, they stared at one another. Armin stared at Eren in visible shock; Eren regarded the eyeliner-wearing man with bewildered confusion. And the man…? Well, he merely looked upon anyone who wasn’t him as potential murderers, so it seemed.

“Welcome to McDonalds. Did you not hear me or do you not want to hear me? Because, either way, that’s problematic.” The man spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. His voice became even more disinterested than it had been before—something which had to be a feat of true detachment.

“We’re the new workers…” Eren eventually responded. “I’m Eren Jaeger and the blond guy is Armin Arlert.”

“Great,” the man flicked some of his short, black hair out of his face as he spoke. Then, he folded his arms across his chest. “So that means I’ll have to train you two. Hm… Well… Now that I think of it, I could probably dunk He-Man over there into the deep fryers…” As if to make it clear who he was talking to, the man rather blatantly eyeballed Armin throughout the duration of this comment. “And… Hm…” He began to inspect Eren. “You look tougher, kid. I’ll have to figure out what to do with you. Maybe I’ll shove your dainty ass into that old mascot suit we have and put you in the middle of the street.”

“Y-You’re not serious, are you?” murmured Armin.

“Psh,” the man rolled his eyes and let forth a disenchanted sigh. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t know people were unaware of what humour actually was any more. Pardon me for forgetting that crucial fact.”

It was at this point, as Armin’s brief moment of concern dissipated, that Eren noticed something. He noticed a pair of observant, grey eyes staring straight at him—eyes which, seeing as there were only three people in the entire building, could belong to only one person. Perceiving this as a challenge, Eren responded as directly as he possibly could have. He stared straight back—met the seemingly disinterested glare with his own disobedient glower.

And the results of this audacious acknowledgement surprised him, to say the least. For, rather than taking on this challenge, the man quickly looked away. He began to play with his idiotic cream-coloured tie, as if to play it off as a mistake, though it was pretty apparent that he had been intentionally staring.

However, that wasn’t really an important thing, was it? It wasn’t going to fuck up the entire world. At least, that’s how Eren though about it. He brushed it off as an odd occurrence and said nothing about it to Armin. (He said nothing about it to the man, either; nothing needed to be said in that case, though.) Rather, he simply continued as if nothing had gone awry. “You’re excused, I guess…”

“Good…” The man cleared his throat and haphazardly straightened his nametag. Then, in the blink of an eye, he returned to having that same, dissatisfied air of boredom about him as before. “I’m the assistant manager around this shitty little franchised fake burger vending centre… Name’s Levi. I suppose you brats want some shit to do around here? It not like any customers will actually come in, anyhow. Honestly, this is just a piss-poor location to be stuck at. But, hey, Erwin still pays me; so, I suppose he’ll also pay your pathetic asses.”

“Nice to know…” Armin responded quietly.

“Yeah. Well, you… Um… He-Man—yeah, I’ll just call you that until I feel like bothering to remember your name—grab a mop and start mopping this floor. Kid with the angry look on his face…” At this point, the man—apparently named Levi—paused. He waited until Eren looked at him before continuing. “Yeah, you. Come back here and I’ll show you how fucking disgusting this shithole of a kitchen is.”

“I—” Eren’s voice trailed off into silence. He briefly wondered if the fact that he was chosen to accompany the foul-mouthed superior into the kitchen had anything to do with the fact that he had been previously eyeing him, though he quickly dismissed this notion. Better to seem a bit naïve than to seem like an overly suspicious employee—at least on his first day—he figured. “Yes sir.”

“That’s the type of shit I like to hear coming out of peoples’ mouths. Not that all that pathetic, whiny crap that most people spew. Now, look at this…” As Levi spoke, he jabbed a thin, pale finger in the general direction of a deep fryer which was covered in layers of old grease. “About half of that disgusting filth is stained to that thing, so don’t go blowing a goddamn fuse when you can’t get it all cleaned off. But try to make it look presentable. The health inspector is coming tomorrow and I’d rather not have to beat him up like I did last time.”

“Um… If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, I have the feeling that you might actually be the type to have really beaten him up…” muttered Eren.

“Hm?” He responded with a brief moment of confusion prior to realising that someone had actually commented on one of his odd jokes. “Well, I may or may not have. Let’s put it that way, kid.”

“Well, did you or didn’t you?” retorted the younger of the pair.

“None of your business.” A faint hint of a smirk seemed to flash across his face, though it may have been Eren’s imagination. However, it was clear that the man was (to some, unknowable degree) amused by the commentary. “Now, get to work. I want that grease trap as spotless as possible by the end of you and He-Man’s shift. The cleaning supplies are in the closet. If you slip on grease and spill your brains out on the floor, that’s not my problem. And, if you do that, remember that your friend out front will be cleaning that shit up… Not that much will be there to begin with, seeing as it’s spilling from your head…”

“Hey!” Before Eren’s rebuttal could get any further than this simple interjection, Levi turned abruptly about and wandered off. To where, neither Eren nor Armin were completely sure. He seemed to just disappear—to have vanished completely from the face of the earth (or, at the very least, from the McDonalds in which the teenagers were working).

 

* * *

 

After an uneventful shift, Eren and Armin crammed themselves back into Eren’s stupid car and drove down the equally stupid streets leading back to their home. They stopped on the way, picked up some pizza—one large cheese pizza, one large meat lover’s pizza, and the mushroom and anchovy pizza that Mikasa seems to enjoy (of course, it may be that she hates the pizza and merely revels in seeing Armin and Eren squirm as she eats the reprehensible dish). Afterwards, the pair continued until they arrived at their ranch-style home. Armin held the pizzas while Eren performed the unnaturally difficult task of unjamming the door from its undersized frame. Once the door was opened, however, the pair entered easily.

“Armin, how did the day go?” The two are greeted by the familiar voice of Mikasa Ackerman, their friend and senior by about three quarters of a year. (It should be noted, however, that, compared to Eren, she’s only a half a year older…)

“You’re not asking me? I’m your adoptive brother, and you’re not asking me!?” Eren bellows back. To any outsider—someone not associated with or accustomed to the odd nuances of interaction within the three-person household—it would seem as if Eren had been angry. However, though no reasonable offer can be offered as to exactly how one could tell otherwise, it can be said that that was not so. Rather, Eren had returned a playful jab as a response to Mikasa’s equally insincere comment.

“No, I’m not,” Mikasa responds, a faint hint of a smirk flashing briefly across her face. “But, seriously, how did the day go? No street fights spilled into the place, right?”

“Oh, yeah. A whole truckload of trigger-happy morons spilled into the place. That’s why we’re not actually standing here, and why we’re really dead.” Eren’s sarcastic response was met by a roll of the eyes from Mikasa and a quiet snicker from Armin.

“Actually, it was pretty nice. I mean, the place wasn’t the best in the universe. But it was better than I thought it would be. The manager kept calling me ‘He-Man’, though… Not quite sure if I’m fond of that moniker,” responded one of the two boys. “But, as a first day, it was pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Eren interjected as he took a rather sloppy bite off a piece of his preferred meat-lover’s pizza. “It was nice. The asshole running the place just up and disappeared about an hour after we showed up, but he was pretty cool, so I guess I can let him off the hook for that. His name’s Levi, by the way.”

“Sounds like an interesting guy,” Mikasa response was spoken with an air of disinterest which both Eren and Armin quickly picked up on. Before either could comment on it, however, she continued. “But, as interesting as it would be for me to stick around and listen to the two of you babble about your misadventures as a fast food restaurant, I really have to go to bed. My boss will kick my ass if I show up late.” She nodded cordially and rose abruptly from her seat. “Good night.” Her words, spoken with an unusual amount of conviction and purpose for such casual commentary, marked the end of the trio’s conversation. They also mark the point at which Eren and Armin’s conversation cut off, as well; for, as both of them were well aware of at this point in their lives, Mikasa’s advice—while not always the most pleasant—was usually the best.

**Author's Note:**

> wow if you made it down here after reading the whole thing you're pretty awesome. thanks!


End file.
